


rock hard like a cinder block

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, Face-Fucking, M/M, Painplay, Suspenders/braces!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 17:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Whenever Louis wears them onstage, it's like a physical struggle for Harry not to just stare at him and drool the whole concert, and it's </i>mean<i>, really, because that's a challenge at the best of times.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	rock hard like a cinder block

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a combination of [this prompt](http://1dkinkmeme.livejournal.com/2628.html?thread=1429828#t1429828) and [this one](http://1dkinkmeme.livejournal.com/2628.html?thread=2406212#t2406212). For anyone who doesn't know, what Americans call suspenders Brits call braces. And uh, the title of this is from Kylie Minogue's 'Speakerphone'.

Harry is beginning to suspect that Louis is doing this on purpose. Louis _likes_ braces, that's perfectly clear, but he's pretty sure he likes what they do to Harry even more. Whenever Louis wears them onstage, it's like a physical struggle for Harry not to just stare at him and drool the whole concert, and it's _mean_ , really, because that's a challenge at the best of times. Harry gets antsy and impatient, desperate to be alone with him, and when they're all changing in the dressing room after the show, Louis always smirks at him as he unclips the braces and pulls them over his head.

Lately Louis's been wearing the braces even when their stylist has planned an outfit that doesn't involve them; he'll just put them on last minute anyway with a quick glance at Harry that tells him he knows _exactly_ what he's doing. Tonight Louis's driving him especially crazy—he looks _so_ good, so put together and smart and he keeps hooking his thumbs behind the braces and letting his hips jut out a little and it's _distracting_. At one point Harry can't contain himself, finds himself going over and touching one of the thick black bands, wanting to—he doesn't know what, snap it or just _caress_ it or something, and he catches himself at the last second, pretending he's just straightening it out. Louis smirks at him. He definitely knows.

Harry's on him the moment they're off stage, pushing him up against the wall and kissing him hard, ignoring Niall's hoot of laughter and Liam's long-suffering groan.

"Can't that wait?" Zayn grins, and Harry only stops kissing Louis long enough to say, "Nope," and by that time the others are already heading off to the dressing room anyway.

Harry wraps his fingers around each of the braces, holding tight, using them to pull Louis closer, and Louis makes half-hearted protests about how they're still technically in public, which Harry doesn't particularly care about until a sound technician wanders by and he realises that actually yeah, maybe this is a little risky.

They head to the dressing room instead and Harry is relieved to find that it's empty now, the others already changed and presumably headed back to the hotel, and he wastes no time in locking the door and getting Louis up against another wall.

He can't bear to unclip the braces, doesn't want to ruin the effect, because fuck, Louis _always_ looks so good in them, he can't wait to see how he looks all flushed and horny and messy. He tucks two fingers beneath the left band of elastic, tugging it out just slightly away from Louis's body. Louis is just watching him. Harry's got his eyes fixed on Louis's chest, but he can feel the intensity of Louis's stare as clearly as he can feel Louis's hands tight on his hips. He lets the band snap back, making sure it lines up exactly against Louis's nipple through the thin fabric of his shirt, and Louis cries out, startled. Harry grins wickedly at him.

He does it again because he can't help it, he wants to hear that little hurt yelp of Louis's again, wants to get revenge on Louis for winding him up like this, wearing the braces all the time just to get a rise out of him. This time he pulls the elastic further out, 'til the waistband of Louis's trousers is gapping just a little. He looks into Louis's eyes, wanting to see the reaction in his face, and Louis is watching him right back, breathing out shakily and steadying himself, a little disbelieving smile on his lips that says _I'll get you back later._ Harry lets the elastic crack again, and Louis's body jolts suddenly, his hands clenching on Harry's hips, and Harry slides his fingers smoothly up to Louis's nipple, rubbing hard through his shirt, intensifying the stinging pain. Louis gasps and squirms, but resists the urge to push Harry's hand away, just tightening his grip on Harry's hips desperately and breathing through it.

Harry smiles at him, impressed, dips in to kiss him, nipping gently at his bottom lip. He reaches down between Louis's legs, palming him through his trousers, feeling the hot hard swell under his hand.

"Fuck, Lou," he hisses, "from that?"

"Shut up," Louis says, but his voice sounds breathy and he's flustered, tilting his hips out for more friction.

Harry pushes him gently back again with the heel of his hand against the stiff shape of Louis's cock, feeling it out, grinning when Louis tries again to push into the touch. He can't bear to pull Louis's trousers down, because that means undoing the braces, and sure, they'd still be _on_ , but it's not as hot to see them just hanging there; there's something about the way they get pulled taut along Louis's torso, held tight at his hips by those sharp metal clasps. They draw Harry's eye every time, to the firm flatness of Louis's chest, the gentle swell of his tummy, the shirt tucked in nice and tight and neatly buttoned.

He doesn't even want to undo the button of Louis's fly, knows it'll make the braces looser, and so he just pulls down the zip, slow, parting the teeth of it one by one, not breaking eye contact. It doesn't give him much leeway; he snakes his hand inside, heart jumping as his palm comes into contact with that firm heat again, the shape of Louis's dick beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. He fumbles, finding the waistband of Louis's underwear under the tails of his shirt, and forces it down. It's clumsy, but he manages it, feeling the hot skin cling against his hand. He eases Louis's trousers up a little, careful not to unhook the braces, and pulls Louis's cock out through his open zipper, and the sight of him is so hot—fully-dressed and yet so totally exposed, his erection standing straight up and flushed pink against the black of his trousers and the stark white of his shirt, the fucking braces practically _framing_ it.

Louis swallows and his cock bobs; Harry has let go in order to admire him. "So dirty, Lou," he murmurs hoarsely, and he doesn't even know if Louis gets it but he thinks he does, knows he must be feeling the cool air of the room on his hard-on while he's covered up everywhere else. Louis shivers, and Harry knows this image is what he'll see in his mind's eye whenever Louis wears this outfit in the future, and he knows Louis knows it too, judging by the slight smirk on his lips.

Harry takes Louis back into his palm, feeling the soft heat of his skin, the pulse beneath the surface. With his other hand, he sneaks his fingers beneath one of the bands of Louis's braces again, holding his dick in his loosely curled fist as he stretches the elastic even further than before. Louis's breath catches in his throat and he shakes his head, just a little, a quiver of uncertain movement.

Harry stills. "No?" he murmurs, leaning in so his lips brush the shell of Louis's ear. He hears Louis's gulp, senses his hesitation.

"Yeah," he hears then, Louis's voice a harsh whisper, "yeah, go on."

"Hold onto me," Harry tells him, even though Louis already is, and Louis's grasp tightens. Harry slips his fingers from the elastic and it ricochets back in an instant, and he hears the snap of air, and feels Louis's dick jump in his hand and his fingernails dig into his hips.

Louis whimpers this time, and he sounds so pathetic that Harry can't bring himself to torture him anymore; he lets go only to spit messily into his hand and then takes Louis back into his fist, letting his hand glide along Louis's length, feeling it throb against his palm.

He starts to pump Louis's cock gently, too slow really, languid, but he wants to savour this, the sight of Louis's erection peeking out from his open fly, flushed dark and slick, his shirt still fully-buttoned, the rest of his outfit pristine, just as it looked onstage. Fuck. Louis's cheeks are pink and his eyes are glassy, his chin lifted, tilted just a little, the angle of it sharp and inviting. Harry ducks in, lips attaching to Louis's jawline and sucking harder than he should, and he rubs at Louis's cock a little harder now too, insistent, and Louis moans and trembles a little against him, hands still clinging weakly onto Harry's hips.

"You want more?" Harry asks, scraping his teeth along Louis's jaw.

Louis twists his fingers in Harry's belt loops. "Yeah," he pants sharply.

"You want me to suck you?" Harry breathes, twisting his wrist a little and making Louis gasp.

"Yeah, yeah," Louis says breathlessly, "yeah, fuck, Harry, please—your mouth—"

Harry smiles against Louis's cheekbone now, letting his hand go still. He likes this, making Louis ask for it, though it never lasts long. "Say please again."

" _Please_ , Harry," Louis says, feeble and frustrated, his hips bucking desperately forward like he's trying to fuck Harry's fist, missing the friction. "Fuck, Harry, do it," Louis goes on, and it always ends up like this, half begging and half commands. "Do it, do it."

Harry tries to make him wait, tries to drag it out, but he's never been good at it—he and Louis almost always end up just as eager and impatient as each other, and feeling the thick weight of him in his hand just makes Harry want to feel it in his mouth. He starts to sink down onto his knees and Louis lets go of him as Harry settles on the floor, Louis's cock resting against his lips. He exhales slowly, lets his hot breath play over him, and Louis's fingers tense.

Harry looks up at him. "Hook your thumbs behind the braces," he says, wanting to see if Louis will manage to keep them there, under control. He always gets a little handsy when Harry blows him, can't stop running his fingers through Harry's hair, tugging on his curls or gripping tightly at his skull. But for now, Louis does what he says, slips his thumbs just behind the metal clasps where the braces meet his trousers.

"Please, Harry," he says again, canting his hips so that his cock bumps Harry's mouth. And Harry wants to punish him for the cheek of that, he really does, but fuck—Louis's skin clings to his lips for a second and he can taste him, and he just can't wait any longer.

He lets Louis's cock split his mouth wide and push deep, his tongue stroking against hot swollen flesh, and Louis sort of hisses, his thumbs pulling at the elastic of the braces with his efforts to keep his hands still. Harry looks up at him, wanting to smirk but not being able to with his mouth so full and stretched. He can't take Louis right into his throat, so he keeps one hand curled tight around the base of Louis's cock, stroking what he can't fit in. He eases back, flicks his tongue over the head before pressing it flat against the sensitive skin and licking roughly, and Louis lets out a little unsteady sound, his hips twisting like he's trying to squirm away and press harder against the heat of Harry's tongue at the same time. His right hand starts to slip and Harry reaches up for it, holding it in place as he takes Louis back between his lips.

" _Fuck_ ," Louis mutters weakly, as Harry sucks, mouth sliding wet and hot and fingers twisting stickily around him. His head bobs back and forth, and he lets go of Louis's hand, satisfied now that it will stay put, so that he can reach down beneath and stroke at Louis's balls, feel them heavy in his palm.

The moment his fingers brush against them, though, Louis's hand is reaching forward, fingers suddenly running through Harry's hair, and Harry looks up at him, trying to glare but unable to hold back the fondly exasperated look in his eyes.

Louis half-laughs, a breathy noise. "Can't help it—sorry—" he says brokenly, and it's not like Harry really _minds_ , it's not like Louis is ever really forceful, pushing his head down or anything like that, it's just funny that he can't seem to resist, petting at Harry's hair and holding onto him like he's scared he might stop.

He allows it. He kind of likes it, anyway, feeling Louis's fingers stroking gently at his scalp, it's soothing and it feels sort of like encouragement, like Louis is saying he's doing a good job. He relaxes a little, manages to take Louis a little deeper and Louis mewls his approval, and Harry thinks he'll never get enough of that, making Louis make noises. He reaches around behind Louis, hand snaking beneath the single band of the braces that runs down Louis's spine. He feels the elastic brushing against the back of his hand, and the cold metal of the clasp, and he pulls Louis in by the small of his back as he continues to work at him with his mouth.

"Yeah," Louis pants, "c'mon, yeah—gonna come—"

He's pulling a little bit at Harry's hair now, fingers twisting in the curls, and Harry picks up his speed. He can feel how close Louis is and he ignores the feeling of his knees rubbing against the hard floor and the slight pain in his scalp and just focuses on Louis, on making Louis come.

Louis gasps and whines, yanking sharply at Harry's hair and almost making his mouth slip right off—he spurts in sudden pulses over Harry's tongue and dripping down his chin as Harry struggles to keep Louis's cock between his lips. Harry holds him steady at the small of the back, feels him shudder and shudder again and then go still.

"Fuck, Harry," he says in a weak, hushed voice, as Harry eases off and swallows thickly, wiping at his chin and mouth with the back of his hand. "Kiss me."

Harry gets to his knees, feeling the way that they ache, and he stumbles when Louis pulls him close suddenly and kisses him with a rough wet slide of his lips. His breathing is still heavy and Harry's mouth feels raw, and they clutch at each other, unsteady on their feet. Harry's hands are back on Louis's braces, his fingers wrapping around them and holding them tight, and Louis chuckles against his lips.

"Still with the braces thing?" he says, sounding breathless, and Harry just nods, twisting the elastic in his fingers.

Louis steps back a little, batting Harry's hands away, and tucks himself back into his pants before unhooking the clasps at the front of the braces. Harry pouts at him, reaching out for them, but Louis slaps his hand and then undoes the clip at the back, torso twisting gently as he reaches for it. He pulls the braces off fully, lets them dangle from his hand as he untucks his shirt with the other, and Harry—well, Harry loves the braces, but it's not so bad watching Louis remove them. Louis is relaxed, languid, a little cocky after he's come; he always still has energy but it's a calmer type, focused and sure rather than wild and frenetic. He undoes a couple of his top buttons, and then takes Harry by the hips and turns him around, and Harry looks back at him over his shoulder, puzzled.

"Hands behind your back," says Louis, and Harry obeys hesitantly, still not really getting it until he feels the slightly rough elastic of the braces against his wrists.

He chokes out a little surprised laugh. "You're the one with the wandering hands, Lou."

Louis stops. "Are you complaining?" he asks.

"Fuck, no," Harry says quickly, "tie me up," because the feel of it, the slightly scratchy fabric of the braces against the delicate skin of his wrists, it's _doing_ something to him—he's been half-hard since Louis's cock first slid into his mouth but now he's full and aching, straining in his trousers as Louis pulls the braces tighter, wrapping them around and tying slightly haphazard knots.

He shifts from foot to foot, and Louis finishes off, leaning in and kissing him just below his ear before murmuring, "Okay, babe," and turning him around again so that Harry has his back facing the wall. He twists his hands experimentally, and the braces give a little—they are elasticated, after all—and the clasps dangle and clink gently against each other. He could _probably_ break free if he really made the effort, but it's not like he wants to.

Louis gets down onto his knees, wasting no time in getting Harry's fly undone and easing his erection out, and Harry can't help but moan just at that, the cool air on his hot skin, and then Louis's palm wrapping around him and stroking, slow, just a few times.

"Lou," Harry pleads, because Louis _always_ likes to tease him, and Harry has the feeling it's going to be even worse now that he's tied up and vulnerable. "Lou..." he says again, and this time it comes out more like a warning than a plea.

"What, babe?" Louis asks innocently, letting go. Harry's hips twitch like he's trying to get his cock back into Louis's hand, and Louis just grins up at him. "I feel like you want something."

Harry groans in frustration. "I want you to suck me."

Under normal circumstances, he'd probably be impatiently guiding his cock between Louis's lips right now, but he _can't_ , all he can do is tilt his hips forwards in a vain attempt to get closer to Louis's mouth, and Louis just leans back a little more, smirking. He wonders if this is revenge for trying to get Louis to keep his hands still, but it doesn't exactly seem like a fair trade. Then again, Louis always takes things a little further than strictly necessary.

Harry pushes his hips out a little more, hands twisting in their restraints, and Louis's tongue darts out, just flicking over the tip of his erection. It's the tiniest fluttering touch but the warm wetness of it makes Harry moan for more, and he feels a wave of cross frustration come over him.

" _Louis_ ," he almost snaps, "fucking—"

He doesn't have a chance to say anything more because suddenly he's being enveloped by blissful heat, Louis's mouth tight around him and suckling, and he cuts himself off with a cry. Louis's throat relaxes around him and pulls him in, and Harry almost sobs with the relief of it, the pressure and the friction. Louis's hands are spread out flat against Harry's hips like he's trying to keep him still for a moment. Harry feels a swallow, and then the back of Louis's throat nudge against the head of his cock and the tip of Louis's nose press against his skin, and he groans hoarsely. It's almost too much to look down at Louis, to see the way he looks so dishevelled suddenly, braces off, shirt untucked and wrinkled and fly still open, his mouth stuffed full and his blue eyes just beginning to water. 

Louis eases back off slow, halfway and then down again, his throat constricting and his lips going slippery-wet, and Harry can only gaze at him, slack-mouthed, hips straining forward almost of their own accord to push into the tight wet heat. Louis is so good at this, _so_ good at this, and he loves it too—loves anything to do with sex, really, but this in particular, Harry thinks, getting to reduce Harry to a whimpering mess and destroying himself in the process, ending up raspy-voiced and sore for hours, eyes bloodshot and face flushed and tear-stained. _Masochist_ , thinks Harry fondly, watching as Louis takes him in again, slick and gulping, nuzzling at Harry's coarse pubic hair.

Usually, he's content to let Louis do his thing, to lean against the wall or sprawl on the bed or whatever without needing to interfere, but something about having his hands restrained makes it different; he feels completely powerless all of a sudden and it's strange, he's so aware of it. He finds himself bucking forward with his hips; Louis pulls back a little and Harry feels his cock sliding along Louis's tongue and he wants to push right back in and he _does_ , catching Louis off guard and making him splutter a little.

"Okay?" he murmurs, and Louis gives a tight little nod—can't manage more with Harry's cock down his throat—and Harry begins to churn his hips a little, gently at first, growing more insistent until he's fucking Louis's mouth and Louis is taking it. He could put his hands up on Harry's hips, regain a little bit of the power here, but he's not touching Harry at _all_ , hands clasped in front of him instead, and there's something about that that makes Harry go light-headed and a little bit frantic, thrusting quick and hard, his hands straining in the bands that hold them together and his head falling back against the wall as he brings himself closer and closer to the edge.

He comes without warning and the moment he begins to spill between Louis's lips, Louis reaches up and holds him still, suddenly taking back the control, his lips closing tight over him and drawing Harry's orgasm out, swallowing neatly. He laps at the head of Harry's cock, tonguing at the slit, and Harry squirms, oversensitive, his wrists rubbed raw against elastic.

Louis draws back, grinning, and he looks a little smug. "Want your hands back?"

"Might be nice, yeah."

Louis gets to his feet, clumsily, and swivels Harry around again to untie the braces. It takes a long time, and Harry is still kind of dazed from his orgasm, going limp and letting Louis fiddle around behind his back. He sighs, smiling to himself at the struggle. "You had no clue what you were doing, did you?"

"I don't tie people up all the time, no," Louis replies, humming to himself as he loosens the knots and finally gets Harry free. "Think I'm gonna need a shower. Wanna get changed?"

Harry turns back around, looking at the braces all crumpled and coiled up in Louis's hands. "No," he says quietly.

Louis looks puzzled for about a split-second, and then his mouth breaks into a smile. "You want me to put these back on, don't you," he says, and it's not a question, so Harry doesn't answer. Instead, he reaches forward, tucking Louis's shirt back into his trousers, zipping up his fly, smoothing his wrinkled shirt out over his chest. Then he takes the braces, and lifts them over Louis's head, stretching them down his torso and fumbling with the clasp and the waistband of Louis's trousers.

"Here," says Louis, chuckling as Harry's fingers slip on the metal and he can't attach it, and Harry brushes him off, determined. After a couple more tries he manages to connect all three clasps, and okay, the braces don't look as good as they usually do, but he thinks it's a little unnecessary for Louis to burst out laughing when they turn towards the mirror.

"Oh yeah, totally presentable," Louis says sarcastically. He looks a bit ruffled, his hair sweaty and his lips and cheeks reddened, but—

"You don't look that bad."

"I was talking about you, babe," Louis says, reaching over to pinch him on the bum. "You've still got your cock out."


End file.
